Appalachia, Let Me In

they are challenged to be themselves. However, I also think that the complexity of modern times demands that we know ourselves as individuals as well as like those with whom we share a cultural identity. Just because most of us have access to the Disney Channel doesn't mean that we all become like Mickey Mouse or even want to become like Mickey. The electronic village is no substitute for flesh-and-blood contacts among generations. Although one can interact with those being portrayed on the screens through the Internet, the more significant portion of communication that takes place without the use of language cannot take place. The Silent Language by Edward T. Hall would be a good place for him to study the majority of culture's "primary message systems " that are not part of language and that one learns in one's community . Growing up in Lynch is decidedly not like "growing up anywhere else." James Goode has described a Lynch "growing up" beautifully in his essay: "Taking Stock of Being Appalachian." As Mr. Richardson himself alludes, Lynch was an intentional, cosmopolitan, industrial, community that was unique in many of its aspects. We are all ethnocentric. We are all "God's chosen." Finding out who we really are can help us tolerate, accept, and even cherish differences. We are not all alike, even though we grew up at the same time and in the same country. Nor should we try to be. Appalachia, Let Me In Appalachia, let me in. I've been a-knocking at your door for better than a decade and still, your coal-black eye denies; your ear detects the rhythm of a full-tilt Yankee gallop. But can't you see me clogging to the fiddle? Can't you hear me slapping these-here spoons to thigh? I've planted seed and dug in, hammered stakes for me and mine suffered ramps, sucked on paw-paw, swilled blinding, stupefying purple Jesus, let me in. My knuckles bleed, Appalachia. —Kathleen Hellen 18 ...